


A Different Kind of Magic

by afewmistakesago



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Magicians, No Curse AU, and librarians, real world AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afewmistakesago/pseuds/afewmistakesago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumbelle Secret Santa 2015, prompt "a different kind of magic"<br/>An ex-magician and a small town librarian and how their worlds collide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“So what’s the deal here?” the child asked, his wide brown eyes looking around at the shelves of books with curiosity.

Had he really never been to the library? Well, she supposed, the purpose of Kid’s Night was to get children interested in reading, and children happened to have a lot of questions. Belle smiled, leaning forward at her desk to speak to the child. “The deal?” she asked, her voice kind. “You can pick as many books as you like, come up here and I’ll check them out for you, as long as you promise to return them to that bin,” she said, pointing to the return box. “We have a lot of books meant just for kids like you, would you like me to show you where those are?”

The boy nodded, and she rose from her desk, leading him to the section dedicated to children’s short chapter novels and picture books. It was far too small a section, but that was why she had implemented a Kid’s Night. Her friend Ruby was doing face painting at one of the tables, Belle had purchased cookies and juice boxes, which she noticed were disappearing as the night went on. Good.

The mayor, Regina, stopped by with her son Henry for a few minutes, eyeing the set-up with a look of disdain. Regina was dressed professionally in a grey pantsuit, her short hair in it’s typical bob, and Belle thought she looked like a presidential candidate straight out of a political magazine. She was vile enough to be a politician. “You know, Ms. French,” she began, circling Belle’s desk like a cat trying to assert dominance over a mouse, “if circulation doesn’t rise, we’ll just have to cut back the library’s open hours.”

Belle cringed in her seat, looking over the numbers on her laptop. “We’ve checked out 200% more books tonight than we did last Thursday,” she offered halfheartedly. “We’re already only open late on Tuesdays and Thursdays, it wouldn’t be fair to…”

Regina smiled, a sign that something horrible was about to happen. The mayor glanced over at her son, who was flipping through a picture book, then put a well-manicured hand on Belle’s desk, tapping the desk with her scarlet-colored nails. “Don’t get too comfortable, Ms. French. I can cut your budget with a snap of my fingers.”

The librarian nodded, trying not to feel outdone by the mayor, who hated the library for reasons unknown. “Circulation will increase,” Belle said firmly, “And it might help if we had a bigger children’s section…”

“I’ll raise your allowance for purchasing books when there is a need,” Regina replied harshly, her arms folded over her chest. “Until then, you’re lucky I let you open a few hours every day of the week. This is a waste of taxpayer money.”

“But your mansion isn’t?” Belle asked quietly, feeling like she was about to start shaking. Regina narrowed her eyes, daring Belle to repeat the sentence, louder this time. “Henry,” Regina called, a forced smile appearing on her face, “It’s time to go home, love.”

With the unpleasant woman gone, Belle tried to settle her nerves, focusing on making sure Ruby was doing well with the face-painting. Wendy Darling had Belle help her retrieve a book from the top shelf (Belle kept a step-stool behind the circulation desk), offering her a smile void of her two-front teeth, a cloud painted on her cheek. It was enough to raise Belle’s spirits, but by the time 8pm rolled around, she was ready to return to her small apartment, to shower off the smell of the library and curl up in her bed with a mug of hot tea and a novel.

Ruby excused herself to go home at 7:45pm, and Belle tried to pay her, but Ruby refused, insisting her help was just something friends did for each other. As she left, Ruby slipped that she’d agreed to pick up more shifts at the diner with the upcoming holidays, and Belle realized she was hinting that she couldn’t help the next Thursday, when Belle would attempt another Kid’s Night.

Belle sighed as she returned to her desk to shut down her system for the day. Her internet was terribly slow, and she began to doodle cartoons on her calendar, she heard someone enter. She glanced at the clock behind her - 7:55pm, really? The sign outside clearly gave their hours. Belle focused on her doodle, a bouquet of wildflowers. As steps approached her desk, she barely looked up. “Internet is already shut off for the night, books on hold will be found to your right, bathroom is to your left,” she said, her tone of voice monotone.

The person in front of her coughed, and Belle glanced at them. It was man, wearing a nice suit. He was tall, at least, taller than her. He had to be older, the lines of his face evident, and his long hair was graying. Not unattractive, was the first thing that popped into mind, but Belle realized that he likely wasn’t there to ask her out. He was nervously looking at her - probably taken aback at her bluntness, and he was holding a piece of paper. Belle suddenly recognized his face from the town meetings she tried to attend as little as possible. She gulped, hoping he wasn’t one of Regina’s minions, sent here with a notice of monetary dues.

“I, uh, saw this in my son’s backpack,” he began, holding the crumpled paper towards her. Belle stood from her chair, reaching for the paper. It was the advertisement for Kid’s Night she’d designed, with bright clipart and obnoxious font advertising snacks, face painting, reading, and fun.

“I didn’t know they handed these out!” Belle said, sounding relieved. “I e-mailed a few of my teacher friends, but didn’t hear anything back.”

“My son has Mary Margaret Nolan,” he offered in return, shifting his weight from foot to foot. She noticed then the cane he walked with, the gold handle glimmering under the fluorescent library lights. Belle made a mental note to send the teacher a thank you card, and smiled for the first time at the man.

“Did your son come tonight?” she asked, raising her eyebrows hopefully.

He shook his head. “Soccer practice,” he said, “Not my night for carpool, so we didn’t stop by. Not sure you’d want four sweaty kids running around, anyway.”

He smirked at this, and Belle replied gravely, “I think soccer practice may have lowered attendance tonight, but we had our fair share of kids here.” She motioned to the table filled with crumpled juice boxes and cookie crumbs, and he nodded. “Now, uh, what can I do for you?”

He paused, taking a deep breath. “I, uh, wanted to offer my services.”

Belle tilted her head curiously, and he continued, “I used to be a magician, back in the day, and I’ve been wanting to get back into it. I could do a few shows a month here, balloon animals and the like, for the kids, if you wanted…”

She could’ve kissed him. “That would be amazing!” she said, her voice genuinely excited. “Thank you so much, Mr…”

“Gold,” he said, reaching to shake her hand. “Mr. Gold.”

“Gold,” she said, mulling over the name. “Do you own -”

“Gold’s Pawn Shop,” he confirmed. “Have you ever been in?” Belle began to shake her head no, and he gave a short laugh. “That’s okay, most people haven’t. Stop by sometime, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

Belle had heard about the mysterious man who owned Gold’s Pawn Shop, but this man didn’t seem snarky like his reputation held - just a bit nervous, if anything. She nodded. “I’ll do that.”

He smiled softly, then glanced at the clock. “And you’re officially closed, Ms...” He trailed off, looking at the fading name tag she wore on the breast pocket of her sweater.

“French,” she said, “Ms. French. But you can call me Belle.”

Belle opened the drawers of her desk, searching for a spare card with her name and phone number. “Just call me, okay? And we’ll work out a day for you to come in?”

“Sounds good,” he said, taking the card and putting it in his suit jacket’s pocket. Mr. Gold smiled once again, and Belle felt her heart tug. Stop that, she thought, scolding herself. Maybe her recent lack of a dating life had made her see every nice man as potential. She walked out with him to the door, watching his figure disappear into a car. When he was a safe distance away, she turned back to face her library, sighing as she found the vacuum in a supply cabinet. The library may close at 8pm, but her work was far from over.

Being a small-town librarian was an absolute dream job. The only thing non-dreamlike about it was the mayor in charge of the small town, but Belle was confident she would win her over. This library was hers, and she would fight for it.


	2. Chapter 2

He had once been great. At least, that’s what the critics in the magazines and the masses leaving his shows had said. It was a rush, being on stage. The lights and smoke effects blurring the lines between reality and illusion, quick twists of the hand or tricks with the stage making the audiences gasp in delight. It was thrilling to be in the spotlight, no matter the size of the crowd. Scotland had never seen such an entertainer rise from poverty, his quick way with words and sharp wit to the press making him a household name.

As he drove home, Jackson Gold debated stopping at his shop. He kept his chests filled with props and specially designed suits and rolled-up posters advertising his shows there. The objects were almost calling to him, begging to be free of the lock he kept them under. Instead of taking the turn to the pawn shop, Gold decided to drive home. His son would likely tumble in front soccer practice soon, and it wasn’t likely he would remember to shower without some parental encouragement.

His home was void of any and all magic, his ex-wife had made sure of that. She had strutted backstage one afternoon in the prime of Gold’s career, all tousled, long, dark hair, dramatic eyeliner, and a walk that was designed to be looked at. The gorgeous woman’s name was Milah, and she whispered things to him about adventure as her hands crept up and down his chest. He had fallen for it. Soon enough, it seemed he wasn’t the only one with a flair for dramatics, an ability to act.

She joined him on his tour bus, taking immediately to the ways of the road, or so it seemed. Within a month, she was pregnant. Within three months, they’d signed a marriage certificate. Gold vividly remembered sitting with her in a dingy motel room between shows, her swollen feet propped up onto pillows as she looked at him with disgust. “This isn’t a life, Jackson,” she practically snarled. “Not for me.”

He nodded, looking away from her and to the ceiling. “The baby will be here soon, I know, I could centralize to one location, talk to my agent about a home theater…”

“Magic isn’t a career!” she snapped, sitting up and looking at him angrily. “You need a real job, Jackson, with real goals and income.”

“I have an income,” he pointed out. “We’re saving it for that home in Glasgow you like.”

“The baby will be here in three months,” she said ruefully. “We need something solid now.”

Gold sighed, shifting off of the bed and picking a deck of cards out of his laundry. When he was stressed, he shuffled the deck over and over. Milah was staring at him with a hatred he had never known before, and it made him uncomfortable. Surely, it was the pregnancy hormones. He was confident she’d return to her spitfire attitude, the one he loved that lacked this vehement shut-down of anything he liked.

Months later, a baby was born. He came early to the world, a tiny little thing with wrinkled feet and hands. Bailey Andrew Gold was suddenly the center of Jackson’s life, and while he knew he could balance fatherhood and a career in magic, Milah thought otherwise. They’d purchased the lavish home in Glasgow she’d wanted with all of Jackson’s savings, but when he came home late one night she was furious.

“I’ve been up all night with him,” she whispered, rocking the baby on her hip. Jackson went to take the baby from her but she stepped away. “Where have you been?”

“The show tonight was sold out,” he whispered back, holding out flowers he had been holding behind his back. “Traffic was bloody awful, I’m sorry, Milah, truly.”

She eyed the flowers wearily, then gave him an ultimatum that would change his life forever. “It’s either us,” she said, holding Bailey out for him to take, “or the magic. You have to choose.”

He chose them, of course. It wasn’t a choice at all. He cancelled the remaining shows of his tour, something his manager swore he would regret. The fan mail that had once been consistent slowed down, the double-glances in the street due to familiarity stopped. Jackson went back to school, earning a business degree as Milah attentively made sure to appear to be a perfect housewife. Bailey got bigger, and the highlight of Jackson’s day was the free time he made sure to have to play with him, to read him stories and rock him to sleep when he was fussy. Milah never quite took to being a mother, always a step behind, always insisting Bailey’s refusal to be comforted by her had something to do with the nanny they’d hired. Jackson ignored the signs, willingly hired and fired multiple women to take of his son while Milah feigned exhaustion and he studied.

“I hate this town,” she complained one night, trying to get Bailey to take applesauce from a spoon. “C’mon, darling, it’s an airplane…”

“Why do you hate it?” he asked, gently taking the spoon from her hand and cooing and Bailey, who excited the food with a happy baby gurgle.

She sighed, narrowing her eyes at the baby. “I want to go somewhere where nobody knows you. Where you’re not the magician and I’m not a failure as a mother.”

“You’re not a failure,” he said quietly, taking another spoonful of baby food and getting Bailey to take it.

Milah stood from the table, rolling her eyes at him. “Let’s just go, okay? I’m sick of this town.”

“Sick of this town,” he repeated, his voice firm, “Or sick of the fact that the bars don’t let you in anymore?”

She gasped, dropping the glass of wine she’d been holding. “How dare you?”

He shrugged, his eyes focused on his son. “Not hard to tell, darling.”

Milah stormed out for the night, and when she crept back into his bed, her breath was hot and mixed with alcohol. “I’m so sorry, Jackson,” she sobbed, “I’m so sorry. I love you, I really do, I just feel so… trapped here.”

Jackson sat up, placing his arm around her shoulder and letting her cry herself to sleep. When he woke up, she had found a globe he used to use for a trick in his shows. He looked at it questioningly, and she said, “We’re going to let the baby spin it, and he can pick where we move too!”

“I don’t want to move,” he said firmly.

“But, baby,” she said, sitting next to him on the bed with wide, pouting eyes. “We can start over. Leave all of our past… mistakes behind, and move on.”

Jackson sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I guess.”

He wasn’t sure why he wanted his marriage with Milah to work so badly. It was in crumbles, but he didn’t want his son to come from a broken home. Something in him desperately didn’t want to be alone. Bailey, or rather, Bailey’s hand with Milah’s direction, spun the globe, his chubby finger landing on Storybrooke, Maine. The move took a few months, but once they arrived, Milah felt as terrible as she had before. Jackson took control of the town’s dying pawn shop, reinvigorating the old connections it had to wider antique collections, and eventually buying half the town’s property. It wasn’t a bad job, offering him a chance to use his newly acquired business skills. The town was small, and the Gold’s mostly kept to themselves.

Within a year of settling in Storybrooke, Milah packed her suitcases and left one morning. The next time he heard from her was a court summons to finalize a divorce. That was eight years ago, and it had just been him and Bailey ever since.

He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to offer his help to the library like that. The direction of the library didn’t fall under his domain, but he knew that the mayor, Regina Mills, had been arguing a lot with the new librarian. She - Belle French - was a young girl, with a fiery spirit that in some ways reminded him of his ex-wife, but with a softness about her that Milah never had. From his one conversation with her, he could tell a few things. One, she was tired, that much was obvious from the way she’d initially brushed him off. Two, she was genuinely excited to have him help at the library.

Shit. He had rarely practiced any kind of magic in years, let alone balloon animals. Maybe he’d just never call - but she knew he owned the pawn shop, and she could come looking for him. It wasn’t usual for him to volunteer like this, but something in his brain kept insisting it would be a good idea.

Jackson pulled into his driveway, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He’d pull out his old things tomorrow, go online if he had too. It would all come back to him, he was sure. For now, it was time to focus on other things. Headlights rounded the corner and Jackson got out of his car, ready to greet his son with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

The second Kid’s Night had a marginally better attendance, and several parents stuck around and checked books out as well. Belle hummed happily as she put some books back onto the shelves that had been left on tables, loving the busy energy of the place. She was, for once, eagerly anticipating the next town meeting, waiting to show Regina her statistics on the increased traffic to the library.

A child tapped on her shoulder. “Ms. Belle?” he asked, “Where’s the bathroom?”

Belle pointed him in the direction of the restroom, and it seemed like a never ending flurry of repetitive questions there. Reserved books there. You can keep it for two weeks. You can check out up to ten books at one time. Yes, the catalogue is online. No, I’m sorry, there’s not much I can do about not having the sequel.

Right as she finished talking to a mother about a particular historical romance they’d both enjoyed, Belle felt another tap at her shoulder. Spinning on her heel, she smiled, ready to answer another question automatically. It wasn’t a patron - instead, it was Mr. Gold. He was wearing a suit, again, but in his hands, he had a matte gold briefcase.

“Oh,” Belle said, after a moment of silence between them, “Mr. Gold! I almost forgot you were coming tonight.”

“I hope I’m not too late,” he said, shifting nervously.

“No, no, of course not!” Belle said with a small smile, motioning for him to follow her. She walked with him to the main room of the library, and he pointed to a boy standing by the snack table. “That’s my son - I brought him over right from practice. My week to drive.”

“I’m glad you could make it, then,” Belle said, giving a small wave to the curly-haired boy who was watching his father. “You could just set up here,” she said, finding a relatively unoccupied corner. “I can announce that you’re here on the intercom.”

“That sounds great,” he said with a tight-lipped smile, looking nervously at the corner.

“Hey,” she said, taking a step closer to him. “Thank you so much for doing, this. It means a lot to me.” Belle reached out an arm, squeezing his shoulder in what she thought was a reassuring manner.

“Of course,” he nodded. He looked around, asking if he could move an empty high table. Belle allowed it, and gave him space to set up. It looked like a deck of cards and a bunch of balloons to her, and she hoped he knew what he was doing. She went to her desk, clicking the button to speak to the whole library.

“Good evening, parents and children of Storybrooke!” Belle said, her voice echoing throughout the library. “In about five minutes, a special guest…” Belle paused, realizing he hadn’t given her a stage name. Or even a first name. Improvisation wasn’t normally her speciality, but she said the first thing that came to mind. “Goldie the Great will be doing magic tricks and making balloon animals for any interested children in the lobby of the library. Please stop by and pay him a visit!”

Belle hung the phone up quickly, biting her lip as she watched people migrate to where he stood. Mr. Gold was looking at her curiously, until a child approached with an encouraging parent closely behind them. She watched as Mr. Gold took a deep breath, then put on a wide smile and greeted the child. Someone approached Belle’s desk to check out a stack of books, and she turned her attention to them. For the next half hour, it was a blur of people checking things in and out.

When her desk calmed down, Belle stood, straightening things up, but purposefully moving towards the corner where Gold was occupying a small crowd. Several children were adoringly clutching balloon animals, and a a few patrons wore brightly colored balloon hats. It seemed like Mr. Gold was a success.

Just as she reached to shelve a misplaced book onto a higher shelf, Mary Margaret Nolan was at her side. “Hey, Belle,” she whispered, looking at the corner where the magician was animatedly shuffling a deck of cards.

“Hi, Mary Margaret!” Belle said, giving her friend a quick hug. “You look nice.”

The two friends had a similar style, and they each glanced over the other’s outfits. Mary Margaret nervously played with her necklace. “Thanks. Is that - uh -” she motioned towards the magician’s corner, lowering her voice.

“Mr. Gold,” Belle said, a questioning note in her voice.

“You know he owns half the town, right?” Mary Margaret asked, looking at Belle warily.

“I didn’t,” Belle admitted. “I thought he just owned the pawn shop.”

“He owns the house David and I rent, the Lucas’ restaurant, the church, the south side of town’s apartment complex,” Mary Margaret listed, counting on her fingers. “Probably more.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Belle said honestly, furrowing her brows. “Is he normally not like -”

A few children gasped in unison at something Mr. Gold did, and for the first time, Belle noticed a few parents standing a few feet away, eyeing the whole set-up warily.

“He’s normally a bit… harsh,” Mary Margaret said softly. “I mean, as long as you can pay the rent, it’s fine. But I’ve heard that people who’re late get to see his bad side.”

“Oh,” Belle said again, shifting uncomfortably as she watched Mr. Gold give a final bow, catching her eye. She gave him a closed mouth smile, looking back at Mary Margaret. “I hope I don’t get on his bad side.”

“Just be careful, Belle,” Mary Margaret said, “Nobody knows much about him.”

“His son’s over there, don’t you teach him?” Belle asked, pointing to the boy sitting at one of the craft tables.

“Bailey,” Mary Margaret said with a fond smile, “Is a very bright little boy, but he’s very quiet. It might be because his mom left when he was two. I’d imagine the single dad thing has something to do with the quiet nature, but I know that you don’t want to owe anything to Mr. Gold.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Belle said quietly, mulling over what her friend has said. She glanced at the clock, realizing it was half an hour until the library closed for the night. “I need to go announce our closing, thanks for stopping by,” she said, reaching out and giving her another quick hug. She didn’t try to focus on the fact that Mr. Gold’s wife had left him, but she felt sympathetic for what he must go through as a single dad.

Belle made her announcement, experiencing a flurry of activity at her desk. Within 15 minutes it was over, and Belle turned to her computer, ready to shut it down for the night, when someone tapped their fingers on her desk.

She looked up, smiling, and saw it was Mr. Gold. She stood up from her chair. “I hope it went well today?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said slowly. “I think it did.”

“I heard a lot of people complimenting you,” she admitted. She didn’t tell him about the parent who saw him there and immediately turned around.

“But some people weren’t happy I’m here,” he said bluntly. “Ms. French, I don’t know if I’m the best help.”

Belle stepped away from her desk, going to stand next to him. “You couldn’t be more wrong,” she said. “If you’re here every other week or so, kids will come, so will their parents, and circulation will increase. I’m sorry that I can’t pay you very much, but that’s what I need.”

“And what about the parents who don’t like that I’m here?”

Belle shrugged. “A few complaints hardly mean they’re going to riot.”

“I suppose,” he said, sounding doubtful. “But it was nice to get into it again, the magic,” he said, a nostalgic smile in his eyes, like he had just remembered something wonderful.

They had begun to walk back to the main room of the library, where Belle imagined his son was still waiting. She found that with his slight limp and her already shorter steps, they pretty much walked at the same pace. “Were you really into it, then, practicing magic?” she asked after a moment’s silence.

His smile widened. “Oh, yeah. Back in Scotland, I had a full show and everything. Smoke and mirrors, sawing people in half, disappearing rabbits, the whole act.”

Belle looked impressed. “That must’ve been something. I wish I could’ve seen it.”

He smiled dimmed a bit, suddenly snapped out of his moment. “It’s been a long time, really, I’m sure it’s hardly impressive now.”

“I doubt that,” Belle assured him as they reached the table where his son was sitting, flipping through a picture book.

“Bailey,” Mr. Gold said, getting his son’s attention. He got out of the chair, looking at his father expectantly.

“Are we leaving, papa?” he asked, and Mr. Gold motioned to Belle. “This is Ms. French, the librarian. Can you tell her how much fun you had tonight?”

Bailey looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “I had fun tonight, thank you, Ms. French,” he mumbled.

“Look her in the eyes,” his father said gently, and Belle crouched to look into the boy’s eyes, as he was obviously too bashful to do so. Holding out her hand for his small fingers to shake, she said, “I’m Ms. French, but you can call me Belle because we’re going to be friends. I’m glad you had fun tonight,” she said, and he looked her in the eyes for a moment, and she said, “Promise me you’ll come back next week?”

He looked up at his father, who gave him a quick thumbs-up, and looked back at her, a pink blush in his cheeks. “We’ll be back,” he said shyly, darting to the door.

Belle walked with Mr. Gold towards the entrance, and he paused by the door. “One more thing, dear,” he said lightly, giving her a challenging look. “Goldie the Great. Really?”

The librarian held her hands up defensively, “You never gave me a stage name, let alone a first name.”

“Sounds like something a child would name a goldfish.”

“How do you know that’s not what my goldfish is named?” she returned sarcastically.

He narrowed his eyes, and she laughed. “I don’t have a fish, I’m just not creative on the spot.”

“I see,” he said, opening the door. His son was halfway to the door, and he began to exit himself, then turned back. “Ms. French?”

“Mr. Gold?”

He paused, and it looked like he was going ask something, then a thin smile set on his lips. “I’ll see you next week, Ms. French.”

She nodded, glancing at the floor. Within moments, the library was empty, and Belle sighed, exhausted. She had gone to college to be a librarian, but she never envisioned herself running a small town’s library with little to no help.


	4. Chapter 4

The following week, school was officially out. With this came the rush from the small tourism industry, and very few of them visited the library, though Belle did give out directions to the beach and the ice cream shop several times. She didn’t expect many people to show up for the Kid’s Night, and the Thursday was particularly slow. Spending the day reorganizing shelves and fixing display’s, Belle halfheartedly remembered she had Mr. Gold penciled in to arrive in an hour or so.

She should call him and tell him not to come. It would be a waste of his time. But, something in her heart jumped at the idea of talking to him, and she couldn’t identify why. Belle knew why- that he was attractive to her, but the idea of them ever pursuing a relationship beyond a working one seemed absurd.

Just as she went to her desk to retrieve her cell phone, Mr. Gold strolled into the library, holding something behind his back.

“Mr. Gold,” she said quickly, meeting him halfway to her desk, “I was just going to call! We’ve been so slow today, there’s no need for you to be here…”

“Really?” he asked, glancing back at his son, who was walking in with a gaggle of children. They went right to the children’s corner, sitting in a circle and passing books to look through with each other.

“Oh,” was all she could think to say. If nothing else, the Gold’s were making sure she had some activity in the library.

“I know I’m early, but I just wanted to make sure this was okay,” he explained, holding what looked like a cat carrier out to her.

“A cat?” she questioned, peering into the slats of the cage.

“A rabbit,” he corrected, setting it down on a nearby table. “Can I take him out?”

“Be my guest,” Belle said hesitantly, perching on the chair while he unlocked the cage. Mr. Gold reached his hand in, producing the softest looking little black bunny she’d ever seen. It was a floppy little thing, with a perfect wiggling nose. Belle felt the immediate need to reach for it, and Mr. Gold chuckled, safely delivering the rabbit to her open hands. She gasped at it’s silky soft fur, marveling at how it was almost weightless as she brought it close to her chest.

“You like him?” Mr. Gold said, watching her cuddle the bunny with an amused look.

“Yes!” she said, carefully adjusting him to make sure she wasn’t hurting him. “What’s his name?”

“Chip,” Mr. Gold said, reaching to the bunny’s floppy ears. “He’s got the white design on his ears, see? Bailey said it’s like his fur was chipped.”

“That is adorable,” Belle said, marveling at the tiny bunny. She set him down on the table, and he sat calmly while Mr. Gold swooped him back into the cage.

“Don’t want him making a mess on your table,” he said, and Belle nodded.

“Is Chip going to be in your show?” she asked, and he nodded.

“We’ve had the little guy for a couple years now, and he’s pretty laid-back,” Mr. Gold said, “I figured I could pull him out of a hat without too much kicking.”

“Are you seriously going to do that?” Belle asked, her eyes wide, and he laughed, amused at her interest.

“Yeah, if it all goes to plan,” he said, patting the top of the cage. “Ready for your debut, Chip?” he asked, glancing at the small crowd of people that had accumulated in the library.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” Belle said, standing from her seat, “But I might want to keep the bunny.”

“I think Bailey would be rather sad,” he replied, and Belle smiled.

“We can share.”

“We’ll see about that,” he countered, and she smirked. Maybe she needed a pet of her own.

Mr. Gold’s magic show was once again a success, and the nervous looks of some parents were soon replaced by surprise, and then amusement. Belle stood on the edge of his audience, watching as his showmanship excelled, keeping all age levels interested.

When he pulled Chip from the hat, Belle cheered along with the rest of the crowd. She secretly hoped he’d stay back to chat after the show so she could hold him again. The bunny, not the man, though her brain had begun dancing thoughts of what him holding her would be like. She imagined he was strong, though she didn’t have proof.

Just as she drifted further into the daydream, the crowd began to applaud. Belle was thrown into the motion, then helped some patron’s wrap up their internet sessions and check out books before they closed.

“You didn’t clap,” Mr. Gold accused the moment she found herself unoccupied. He was walking over with Chip resting in his arms, Bailey close behind.

“I was… distracted,” Belle admitted, feeling her cheeks grow hot, “But what I watched was really good.”

“I see,” he said, and Belle smirked.

“Were you watching me, then, and not your adoring audience?”

“Hush,” he replied, balancing the bunny in his hands and handing Chip to her. “Thought you might want to say goodbye.”

“I do,” Belle cooed, speaking to the rabbit like some people spoke to babies, “You did so good, Mr. Chip! Did you have fun?”

“He can’t understand you,” Bailey piped up, giving Belle a curious look.

“Oh, I know that, Bailey,” Belle said, smiling at him, then back down to the bunny. “But you’re just so cute! Look at your perfect little ears and your feetsies…”

Bailey whispered something to Mr. Gold, and the older man made a scolding noise.

“Bailey said he thinks you should buy yourself a bunny, because Chip is his,  but I think we can share,” Mr. Gold said, and Belle looked up from the bunny and to Bailey, who was now eyeing her suspiciously.

“I don’t have time for a bunny,” Belle said sadly, cradling Chip gently, “I have too many books to have a bunny.”

“There can only be so many B’s,” Mr. Gold said softly. “Belle, books, bunny…”

“Burgers, brownies, bills for the library,” she continued, listing the B’s on her fingers.

“Bailey!” came Mr. Gold’s son, who was no only half-invested in the conversation the adults were having and more interested in the gaming device he’d produced from his shorts pocket.

“Bailey,” Mr. Gold repeated, looking down at his son warily. “Ms. French, I do believe someone has to get to bed early today to go camping tomorrow.”

“That sounds fun,” Belle said, and Bailey looked up from his game and nodded.

“I think we’ll be heading out, then,” Mr. Gold said, reaching for Chip, and Belle felt a small electricity buzz through her when their skin touched. If he felt it, he made no motion, simply putting Chip back in his cage and putting his hand on Bailey’s shoulder, guiding him towards the exit.

Belle walked with them towards the door, and after a quiet moment, she said, “Your work was really great again tonight. All the kids who got balloons loved them, I still don’t understand how you did the card tricks, and Chip’s appearance was a big hit.”

“Thank you, Ms. French.”

“You’re welcome, but I should be thanking you.”

“Debatable,” he said quietly, reaching the door. “Well, goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Gold.” Him and his son walked out the door and Belle headed to back into the depths of the library when she heard the door open. Glancing back, she said Mr. Gold had walked back in.

“I have… I have all my equipment, and some posters, from my old magic routine. It’s all in the storage room at my shop,” he said, staring at her.

“Oh,” Belle replied, not sure what he was getting at, or why he was telling her this.

He looked nervous, taking a deep breath. “If you want to, you could come by and see it, but if you’re not interested, of course, I understand, you’re probably very busy -”

“Mr. Gold,” she said, stopping him in his nervous tracks.

“Ms. French?”

“That sounds nice. I’ll stop by sometime this week. And we can talk about your future at the library.”

“Right,” Mr. Gold nodded, turning back to his son was waiting on him by a parked Cadillac. “See you then.”

Belle waved, watching him open the door and make sure his son was in the car. Walking back to her desk, she wasn’t entirely sure what to think of his proposal to visit his shop. It was obvious to her that he had a good heart, but some of the townspeople might not share her opinion. She remembered Mary Margaret’s cautious words, but the man had been nothing but kind to her. It wouldn’t hurt anything to try and become his friend.


	5. Chapter 5

Mr. Gold wasn’t sure what possessed him to invite Ms. French to the shop to see the objects from his past. Milah hated that he didn’t just burn up the equipment, effectively throwing away that part of his life, but something in him couldn’t do it. Belle’s shy smile kept dancing around his mind that week, her genuine interest in seeing that part of his history. For some reason, he felt comfortable around her in a way that he was normally guarded from the citizens of Storybrooke.

With school out, the shop was open reduced hours. Not that many people from the town appreciated the antiques and rare objects he had come to possess, but he had enough connections in other towns to make keeping it open interesting. When he was at the shop, Bailey was either with him, or being watched by Mr. Hatter. Jefferson Hatter was the other single dad in the area, and his daughter Grace was Bailey’s age, and they were good friends. An older couple in their area, the Booths, had adopted a young boy named August and they had recently joined the alternating schedule for their summer routine. Today was one of Bailey’s days at the Hatter’s, Jefferson was taking the boys on an overnight camping trip, and Jackson was ready for him to come home so he could take his boy to the pier for some fishing.

The front door bell jingled. Hesitantly, Ms. French peered in, a smile brightening her face when she saw him. “Hi!” she said, walking towards him at the cash register. “I called, but you didn’t answer, but the sign said open…”

She was standing in front of the counter now, her hands resting across from his. Jackson reached into his pocket, seeing a missed call and voicemail from Ms. French. “I always forget to turn the sound on,” he said apologetically.

“Is now an okay time?” she asked, looking around the shop. A necklace caught her eye, and she walked towards it, gently tracing the outline with her finger.

“It’s a good time,” he replied, walking towards the jewelry display. “You’ve got a good eye. That’s one of my favorite pieces - made in the 1920’s, likely worn by a flapper girl. It’s delicate.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said firmly. “I don’t know how I didn’t know you had all, well, this,” she said, spreading her arms out.

“Hidden gem, I suppose,” he said, motioning with her to follow him to the curtain that went to the back of his shop. “And now, you’re getting behind the scenes access.”

She made a happy “ooh” noise, like someone admiring a new car, and he felt a smile quirk on his lips, glancing back at her. She really was pretty, Ms. French. The librarian’s hair was fully down today, a nice change from the ponytail she normally had it up in at the library. Her dark hair brought out the lightness of her eyes. Jackson pushed the thought of her looks away, knowing that it was futile, for she was young and lovely and likely had lovers knocking at her door, handing her a rolled-up poster instead of confessing that she looked beautiful in the stream of light from the break in the curtains.

Ms. French took it cautiously from his hands, as if afraid to break the weathered paper. She straightened it out, mouth slightly agape, smiling in recognition of him on the poster. “Jackson Gold, magician extraordinaire,” she read, taking in the caption of the photo, one he used for most promotions. He was bowing on stage, an audience standing on their feet before him, roses piling at his feet. It was one of the first large shows he’d ever performed by himself, and the spotlights hit him just right.

“It’s no Goldie the Great,” she said, glancing at him teasingly, “But this is so cool. And I had no idea your name was Jackson.”

He took a mini bow. “Jackson Gold, at your service, Ms. French.”

Ms. French blushed, handing him back the poster. “I do insist you call me Belle,” she said, leaning against a tall wardrobe and staring at him with a look he couldn’t quite identify. He reached a hand right past her head, opening the wardrobe’s door and revealing various decks of cards, special wands, escape tricks, and a gold bow tie.

Belle reached for the bow tie. “Signature look?” she joked, placing it by her own neck.

“Yes,” Jackson replied seriously, and she quickly put it back in place. Belle readjusted her position to be next to him, looking into the wardrobe. Looking over at her quickly, her expression was one of awe. Or perhaps she was just masking boredom. They were just things, after all. After a moment of silence, he said, “This isn’t a museum, Belle. You can touch things if you’d like.”

“Oh,” she said, her wide eyes giving away her desire to grab at everything. “Is Chip here?” she asked, and part of him cringed. Of course she was here for the bunny.

“No, I’m afraid not,” he said, “He lives in Bailey’s room, for the most part.”

Belle nodded, reaching into the cabinet. The first thing she picked up was two-sided mirror, and she looked at herself in it, frowning.

“I used that one for a mind-reading bit,” he said, gently taking it from her. “Bit rusty now, but..”

“Are you going to read my mind?” Belle challenged, quirking her eyebrow.

He sighed, holding it just past his face, turning to get her reflection into it. It had been a long time since he’d played a mind game he knew he couldn’t win.

“Close your eyes,” he prompted, and she frowned.

“I didn’t say it was a good trick,” he pointed out, and Belle smiled, quickly shutting her eyes.

“You’re thinking…” just as he was about to pull something random from the corner of his mind, Belle’s stomach made a desperate noise. Clearly, the woman needed food. “You’re thinking you need to get lunch.”

Belle squinted, opening her eyes, her hand covering her stomach. “That obvious, huh?” she asked, turning to him with an embarrassed grin.

“Just a bit,” he said, and they began to walk to the front of the shop.

“I want to see everything, though,” Belle said, glancing back at the back room’s door, and he chided her.

“There will be time for that,” he assured her, though that would involve her and her inviting smile and charming wit to come back to visit him. Jackson was almost completely positive that someone as radiant as she was wouldn’t want to come back.

They reached the door then, and Belle smiled, pushing it open, and just as he was going to say goodbye, she turned back. “Do you - do you want to go with me, Mr. - Jackson? To lunch?”

He hesitated a moment, then nodded, and suddenly Jackson Gold felt himself following Belle French to the diner.

“Why’d you decide to start again - with the magic?” Belle asked in-between bites of her french fries. She’d just polished off a quarter pound cheeseburger, and seemed driven to leave her plate clean. Jackson found it slightly admirable that someone so tiny could have such an appetite. Personally, he’d ordered the same thing as her, but found he could only eat a few fries and half the burger, given all the questions she was asking.

Not that he minded her chattiness. She was treating him like a friend. If she noticed the double-takes from a few tenants who wanted an arrow pointed to his head, she’d made no mention of it.

“Well,” he said, “I’m not sure. I guess, I have the skills, so I may as well use them for something worthwhile. Like promoting childhood literacy.”

Her grin widened, sipping on her cold Coca-Cola. “Thank you so much, I really think it’ll be great.”

“Of course.”

Belle’s eyes narrowed slightly, her mouth twisted like she was thinking. “You were never really intending to be a landlord, shop owner, and a balloon animal artist, huh?”

“No,” he admitted, “But I really am happy to help. And I’ll make you a balloon animal of whatever animal is your favorite, especially if you’re partial to snakes.”

She smiled at this, glancing away from him shyly. “Next time you come in, I’ll request a beautiful balloon snake. If the children’s nights continue, of course…” she continued, her voice trailing off.

“What with Regina’s meddling, I just need the right numbers to get the budget I need…” she said, more to herself than to him.

“Regina’s meddling?” he asked, leaning in closely so the rest of the small diner didn’t hear.

“Kind of,” Belle whispered, “She’s severely limited the hours we’re open, won’t let me order new books due to lack of circulation. But I can’t increase circulation if the library is never open. It’s a Catch-22.”

Jackson settled back in his chair, his hand tapping quickly. The mayor was the most powerful women in the city, but he still held an amount of influence that rivaled hers. He could see what he could do to find the funds for the library.

“Send me your financials and circulation statistics for the last few months,” he said suddenly, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Really?” Belle said, and she looked ready to leap from her seat and hug him. This woman was very easily excited. It was endearing, but he knew he shouldn’t think that she was excited by him - she was excited by the help he could give her. There was no way she enjoyed his company beyond anything but acquaintances.

“Of course,” he said, and Belle reached her hand out to cover his. Jackson stared at her small, feminine hands covering his worn ones, unsure of what Belle was doing.

“You’re a great friend to have,” Belle said, “I’m really glad you came into the library.”


	6. Chapter 6

Belle and Jackson had informally began a tradition of going to lunch together once or twice a week. He stopped by the library with to-go Mexican food a few days after their first lunch together, and from there, they alternated in bringing each other foods from the local food scene. She loved his quiet nature, but she could tell he was always thinking. The things he said were normally sarcastic, but she could see the soft heart beneath the rough demeanor. They were learning each other’s life stories - from Belle’s initial difficulty after her parents moved her from Sydney, Australia to Boston, to his life in Scotland. His voice shook when he talked about his ex-wife, but she would nod and encourage him. He explained that he wanted to pick up the magic tricks again in part to teach Bailey - who was picking them up himself with remarkable speed.

The people in town who seemed perturbed by their friendship - particularly Mary Margaret - just didn’t know him enough. Jackson seemed genuine when he explained to her that his only enemies were the ones who couldn’t pay their rents. The amounts they paid had been signed on by the tenants, and if they couldn’t pay them, he couldn’t maintain the properties to make sure they held the best value. Someone always had to be the bad guy, though.

Jackson had begun bringing his son to lunch. She didn’t mind at all, he was sweet boy, if shy. With more time with her, he’d begun to open up to her, drawing her a picture of a stick-figure her holding a stack of books. She taped it to her desk, smiling whenever her eye caught on the sunshine wearing sunglasses.

If her hammering heart when he smiled at her or said her name indicated anything, it was that she was falling into a big crush on the mysterious landlord with a talent for magic tricks. It took everything in her not to reach out and hold his hand when they walked places together, or to hug him goodbye. It just didn’t seem like he was looking for a relationship, however, and Belle didn’t want to push things and make him uncomfortable.

It wasn’t until Belle didn’t show up for lunch one day that Jackson realized how much she meant to him. He was doing stock for the pawn shop, keeping an ear out for the bell to ring to announce her arrival, but it was a half hour after her normal arrival time and he was beginning to get nervous.

He wracked his memory, double-checking that it was her turn to bring something to him and that it was the normal day of the week she’d come by the shop. Checking his phone, he didn’t have any messages from her. Something was wrong.

Jackson flipped the ‘closed’ sign on the shop’s front door, walking the few yards it took to get to the library. Belle wasn’t at her desk, but her ‘out for lunch’ sign wasn’t on the door, either. He walked in cautiously, looking down every aisle. “Belle?” he called quietly, but she didn’t reply.

In the very back of the library, he saw her back, standing on a tall ladder shelving something on the highest shelf.

“Hey, Belle,” he said, and she looked down at him, surprised. She lost her footing, falling down the ladder with a few feet between her and the floor, and Jackson rushed forward. Miraculously, he caught her in his arms and she stared at him, her mouth open. Belle was, for once, at a loss for words, and he set her on her feet gently, his hand on her shoulder as she steadied herself.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice shaking. Jackson noticed her mascara was smudged, her face red and puffy.

“Belle -” he said, reaching to brush a fallen curl of hair out of her eyes, “Have you been crying?”

“No,” she lied, poorly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yes.”

“Why?” he asked. “If you don’t want to tell me -”

“I’ll tell you,” she said, “Regina Mills cut my funding again. We’re going to be closed on two days of the week. I can’t order new books for at least a year with the financial plan she just sent me, and she refuses to let me fundraise.”

Jackson frowned. He’d gone over the financials for Belle’s library, and they seemed reasonable to him. Why was Regina making changes?

“I’m going to go pay her a visit,” he said finally, “See if I can find some logic. You’ve had increased traffic this summer, yes?”

“A huge increase from last summer,” Belle said, “It’s just not fair.”

Her face crumbled into tears again and he found himself embracing her. She was stiff at first, then wrapped her arms around his neck, crying into his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But this library means the world to me, and I’m tired of fighting for it.”

“It’s okay, Belle,” he said, his voice slightly strangled as he rubbed her back reassuringly, “It’s okay.”

After Belle had stopped crying and gone to the bathroom, fixing her makeup and splashing cold water on her face, they went out to lunch, not mentioning what had just happened. Something had shifted between them, they could both feel it - he kept his hand on her lower back as they made their way to the diner.

Later that day, Jackson made a stop to Regina Mills’ home.

“You normally don’t do house calls, Mr. Gold,” she said, giving Jackson an unnaturally wide smile. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“You’re hurting someone I care about,” he said lethally, stepping into the home without an invitation.

“Bailey?” she asked with a faux smile, “I don’t recall speaking to him recently.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh,” she said, tapping a finger to her lips. “The library?”

Jackson nodded, and Regina smiled again, like a child about to win a game. “I didn’t know you’d developed feelings for the little librarian… Henry told me you were doing magic tricks, there, which seemed terribly out of character for you. Can I get you a drink?” Regina asked, pulling a chair out for Gold at her massive dining room table.

“No, thanks,” he said, sitting down. “And you know nothing of my character.”

“Don’t I?” Regina asked, setting a heavy manila folder in front of him.

“Remember the playground we wanted to build?” she asked, drawing the blueprints out of the folder. “A better park, place for all families, blah, blah, blah?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Jackson remembered the meeting between him and the rest of the city board, voting to implement the construction of the playground with whatever money the city had over. Regina said she had found the money, and he’d approved it when she’d run it by him, but he didn’t know it would be taken from Belle.

“You told me to find the money wherever I could without trying to raise taxes,” Regina said, “So the library is first to go.”

“What?” he asked, “Why?”

Regina shrugged. “It’s just not important. I can’t defund schools or the police department, after all, but books? Nobody will notice if the library is hardly ever opened.”

“Yes, they will,” he said, “I’ve been at the library multiple times a week these last six weeks, and I’ve never felt like it was useless. Belle puts all her energy into it, she deserves for it to be open appropriate hours and to be able to pay someone so she’s not constantly the only worker there.”

“That’s quite a lengthy list of demands,” Regina said, raising an eyebrow. “And besides, you signed off on all the budget changes just last week.”

Jackson grimaced, shifting through the papers Regina had handed him. He didn’t recall the estimates for the playground being this expensive, but Regina did have his signature at the bottom of the page. He was head of the city advisory board, given he owned half the town, and he was normally much more careful about monetary figures like this. What had he been distracted with - Belle. He was excitedly anticipating bringing Belle food from a new oriental restaurant that he’d rushed through the sums. This woman had taken a hold on him.

“You know, Regina,” he said, and the mayor smiled at him, anticipating his defeat. “I’ll take you up on that drink offer.”

“Of course, Mr. Gold,” she said, running her hand across the table as she walked to her kitchen.

Jackson stood up, tapping the top of the incriminating folder, spotting Regina’s file cabinets close by. They were labeled with the different years of her mayor-ship, and he tried to open the most recent one. Locked. This was an invasion of personal property, but he suspected the sneaky woman was up to something besides building a playground.

His eyes glanced the perimeter of a room, spotting a decorative plant. Lifting it up, Regina had hidden a key beneath it. How predictable. He opened the 2015 folder, running his fingers across the tops of the folders. Their seemed to be a false end to the cabinet, ending abruptly earlier than the depth of the shelf. With a small push, the back opened, revealing a whole file of documents. Oh, Regina.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a shrill voice asked as Regina rounded the corner, glass of water in hand.

“Personal home expansion?” he asked quietly, shooting Regina a disapproving look as he lifted the paper from the file, dated quite recently.

Regina snatched paper out of his hands. “Yes,” she said nervously, smoothing her hair down with her hand. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“If you like living in this mansion,” Jackson said, “You’d better fix the library’s budget to what it should be.”

“You’ve invaded my property,” she said, setting the glass down and folding her arms across her chest.

He smirked. “And you’re stealing taxpayer money to get an extra bedroom and a pool, apparently. You really want to fight me on this, dearie? I will win, everytime.”

Jackson left Regina’s house with a satisfied feeling in his stomach. The next day, Belle visited his shop, waving the new budget papers from Regina.

“It was like a miracle,” Belle said, sitting on the stool behind the cash register. Her legs were happily swinging as she watched him fix a display nearby. Belle had made herself at home in his space. “She called it Christmas in July, actually.”

“Really?” Jackson asked, silently thrilled that Regina had given Belle back the library’s open hours, and then funds for Belle to hire and train a new part time-worker. She’d come into the shop with a grin on her face, declaring that her crisis was over.

“Yes,” Belle said happily, “It’s all coming together.”

“Like a happy ending,” Jackson said thoughtfully.

Belle gave him a suddenly pointed look. “Did you have something to do with this?”

Jackson shrugged. “Let’s just say, she was putting public funds into the wrong project. I redirected her into some more useful investments.”

“Well, thank you,” Belle said, stepping off the stool and giving him a quick hug. There was an awkward pause of them staring at each other, and Belle felt herself biting her lip, her eyes drifting to his lips. She felt her heart thudding in her chest, the desire to kiss him growing unbearable.

“Let’s go to the fireworks together tonight,” he said suddenly, dropping his hands from around her back. She nodded, looking at the clock. It was the 3rd of July, but Storybrooke did their fireworks a day early.

“Sounds good,” Belle said, “And the library is closed for the holiday.”

“No curfew, Belle?” he teased, and she blushed.

“It’s a date, then,” she said quietly.

He confirmed this sentiment, repeating, “It’s a date.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

The streets of Storybrooke were just busy enough - not too crowded, but not pathetic. The sun was setting, and local restaurants had dragged out their grills and sold hot dogs and burgers to the hungry street wanderers. Kids were playing hopscotch and jumping rope, adults were standing in circles, debating sports and the weather, and everyone seemed to be in high spirits.

Jackson Gold surveyed the scene, not quite sure where he fit in. On the opposite side of the road, Bailey was playing tag with kids from the neighborhood. Belle had texted him to say he’d just meet her there. He found Jefferson Hatter, standing next to him as they supervised the children, until he felt a gentle tap at his shoulder.

Belle French was next to him now, wearing with a patriotic American flag design. She had a blue bow in her hair, and red lipstick. “You go all out,” he commented, and she smiled, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head.

“So do you!” she remarked, pointing to his American flag t-shirt. He wore it under an unbuttoned sport coat, so the formality was still there. “And neither of us are American!”

Jefferson looked at them bemusedly, commenting that he was going to go visit the truck where David Nolan was selling sparklers.

“I, uh, brought you something,” Jackson said nervously, turning to face Belle, and her eyes widened nervously.

He held his hand out to her, suddenly producing a bouquet of fake flowers. Belle’s mouth dropped and she looked up at him, taking them with a cheerful smile. “Why, thank you,” she said with a small curtsy. “You’re truly magical.”

It was a stupid gag, but he wanted to see her smile. It had worked. She gave most of the flowers to a passing group of young girls, but kept one tucked behind her ear.

“I’m just here because around 8pm, Mrs. Lucas drops everything to half price,” he snidely commented, and Belle laughed.

“I’ve skipped the fourth for the past few years,” she admitted. “Want to show me what’s going around here?”

“Of course,” he said, and she held out her hand. Her eyes met his and she took a deep breath, and he reached his hand to meet hers. It was a perfect fit. They walked together, their hands intertwined and their arms swinging, down the streets of Storybrooke. He showed Belle the chalk art corner, the displays of jewelry local craftsmen had on display (he took mental notes of the ones she spent the most time looking at), the bake sale, and finally, bought her a tin-foil wrapped burger from the diner’s to-go station.

“We always wind up eating burgers,” she said, and he agreed. The night went on, with Belle getting passed a box of sparklers. She found one of her friends had a lighter, and that properly amused her for about two minutes.

“If you were a real magician,” she said, settling down next to him on the blanket he’d brought once the last spark had died, “you would have been able to light that up with your eyes.”

“I don’t have my special effects guy with me tonight,” he replied, “or else I’d give you the world.”

Belle rested her head on his shoulder, and they sat silently, watching the children in front of them play. “Do you ever dream of doing it again?” she asked quietly, and he didn’t know what she meant.

“Doing magic for big groups of people? I can see that you love it from the look in your eyes. You should be doing bigger events than my library shows.”

“I like your library shows,” he pointed out, but he sighed. “I guess, yes, a part of me feels like it’s come to life again. It would be nice to do it again.”

“You should,” Belle said, a note of finality in her voice.

The lights in the open field suddenly dimmed, an indication that the fireworks were about to begin. Jackson looked around, seeing Bailey was sitting with his friends a few spots away. He settled back, his arm resting behind Belle. Patriotic music began to blare from crackling speakers, and the fireworks began their ascent to the top of the dark sky.

The colors hit the sky in a dazzling display, the crowd gasping and oohing and aahing accordingly. But somehow, Jackson felt himself watching Belle’s face light up instead of watching the sky lighting up. She was just so damn beautiful, her long hair pulled back by the blue ribbon, her hand resting gently on his leg. The music took a turn to a slower song, and he watched as Belle turned to face him, finding him already watching her.

In one fluid motion, her hand was on his cheek and their lips finally met in a breathtaking kiss. Jackson turned to wrap his arms around her back, and Belle’s hands brushed through his hair as they deepened the kiss, the passion on both sides not hidden. Someone behind them hollered, and Belle smiled into the kiss, trying to hide her laughter. Jackson broke it off, looking at her in astonishment while Belle licked her lips, her whole body still buzzing.

“That was like magic,” she whispered into his ear before kissing him again, ignoring the cheers of the people behind them who were having far too much fun watching their first kisses together.

When this kiss ended, he shook his head. “A different kind of magic,” he said, his voice warm and filled with possibility.


	8. Epilogue

Behind the scenes of a college theater was anything but glamorous. The walls were littered with graffiti and chewed gum, and the whole place smelled mildly like body odor, but there was nowhere Belle French-Gold would’ve rather been.

“You’ve got this,” she said reassuringly, watching her husband pace the small green room they were sitting in.

“You’re saying that because you love me,” he pointed out, and Belle nodded, taking his hand in hers.

“I do love you, but I know you’ll do well because you’ve got the talent and the skill and you’re my husband and you’ll do fantastically,” she said more firmly, kissing his cheek as the theater’s crew leader told them to get ready to go to the stage. She reached to adjust the gold bow tie he was wearing, fondly remembering the first time she’d teased him about owning one.

Bailey held Belle’s hand as they walked him to the edge of the curtain. Jackson was shaking his hands nervously, his head bobbing. Belle knew he was mentally running through his opening monologue. She squeezed his shoulder with her free hand, and he hugged her again, careful around her swollen belly.

“Good luck,” she whispered, “from me and Gemma both.”

After only a couple months of marriage, Belle had become pregnant. They’d just found out they were having a baby girl, and settled on the name Gemma Elise.

“Thank you,” he said, and Bailey attacked him with a hug.

“Good luck, dad,” he said, and Jackson held his son tightly for a moment.

The speaker began to cackle, a low voice introducing Jackson. “Please welcome to the stage for the first time since his hiatus, Scottish magician extraordinaire Jackson Gold.”

With one last glance to his family, Jackson headed to the stage, his nervous disposition suddenly dissipating. He was a natural, and he’d fallen right back in love with entertaining people. A stage assistant led Belle and Bailey to their seats, and they enjoyed the show from the first row with a special thank you at the end, after a standing ovation from the enthusiastic and responsive audience. Belle couldn’t help but reflect that while Mr. Gold could perform magic tricks of all kinds, the greatest magic of all was that they’d fallen in love, living out their own little happy ending.


End file.
